


Subway

by bukkunkun



Category: OFF (Game), Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Cecil is Inhuman, Crossover, Ghosts, M/M, Subways, idk what i was doing but this was fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-17
Updated: 2013-09-17
Packaged: 2017-12-26 21:19:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/970406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bukkunkun/pseuds/bukkunkun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Night Vale gets two new strangers, and a new unwanted problem. It's a good thing they know what they're doing.</p><p>A WtNV/OFF crossover written on a whim.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Subway

**Author's Note:**

> SO OK I MISS THE BATTER AND ZACHARIE OK
> 
> ALSO HEADCANON ZACHARIE WOW THESE TWO FANDOMS ARE SO V A G U E
> 
> ANYWAY ENJOY I MIGHT WRITE MORE ONESHOTS IDK????
> 
> SOMEONE ELSE CAN STILL CONTINUE THIS THO GO RIGHT AHEAD PLEASE DO SO
> 
> Headcanon Batter/Cecil interaction is from [this post](http://letsalterreality.tumblr.com/post/60581721816/how-do-you-see-cecil-and-the-batters-relationship) on [this beautiful blog](http://letsalterreality.tumblr.com/), by the way.

The morning started out pretty normally, Carlos thought to himself, smiling contentedly as he walked down the street with a polystyrene cup of steaming coffee he and Cecil had picked up before he dropped off his boyfriend at the community radio station.

The day was pleasant enough; the sun wasn’t _that_ hot and the wind wasn’t as dry as it usually was, so it was alright enough for Carlos to not bring his car along—his testing field today was near the trailer park anyway, which wasn’t that far a walk away from NVCR.

He passed by a shut-off entrance to the subway that had appeared without reason, and for a moment he stopped in front of it, frowning slightly as he approached the entrance, peering into the darkness past yellow tape ( _POLICE LINE DO NOT CROSS_ , the usual—he was actually a little _disappointed_ it was normal; Carlos was half-expecting paper rolls not unlike receipt rolls set-up with curses written in Sumerian—modified or not), standing up on his toes a little to peer inside, though he knew he would see nothing, not in this darkness, anyway.

He could see his personal Secret Police watcher—a Texan import, flaming-red hair, heavy-set—stepping a little closer to him, and he backed away a little away from the entrance, hands up to show her he wasn’t taking another step closer.

Just as he did, though, the ground beneath them violently shook, and Carlos’s eyes widened in surprise as his watcher dove out from where she was (standing around the corner of an alley he was standing near) and grabbed him by the waist, pulling him back away from the entrance, forcing him to let go of the cup of coffee he was holding.

He and his watcher staggered backwards, Carlos’s yell of protest cut off by her arm suddenly clamping over his throat to silence him as the rumbling intensified. Carlos wriggled out of her grasp to gape at the rumbling exit, pulling his phone out of his pocket, hurriedly going through the contacts.

“Cecil!” he hissed the moment his boyfriend picked up. “Are you seeing this?”

A few blocks away, Cecil sat in his booth, eyes glazed over and third eye wide open, clear, and glowing, and there was a frown on his lips as he had his phone on the desk, clear from his hands, which were both shaking as he held them both up in the air.

“I am. Carlos, you _have_ to get away from there. Right now,” Cecil spoke up, as unseen to him, the latest intern rushed around the control room, trying to get the knobs back in order as radio static filled his earphones, panic seeping into his mind as he bit his lip.

“Mr. Cecil,” he half-whined under his breath, fearfully peeking at the Management’s door, which, strangely, was quiet, and the lack of shadows at the window was getting him restless. “Mr. Cecil, you have to calm down,” he spoke into the microphone, but he knew that once the man had gone into his _trance_ there was no talking to him until he got out.

Blocks away Carlos and his watcher backed away from the subway exit, Carlos panicked, half-blabbering into his phone, desperate to hear from Cecil, but the last thing he heard from his boyfriend was his confirmation that he was, indeed, _seeing_ this—at least, then, Carlos knew Cecil would see whatever it was he was doing.

His watcher pulled out a gun Carlos had never seen before, and aimed it at the now-crumbling entrance, where he realised now that there was the hint of light coming from inside the tunnel of darkness.

There was a radio nearby, and it suddenly buzzed to life, making Carlos jump.

“ _Listeners, this is a special live broadcast. Many of you remember several subway entrances appearing all over Night Vale a few months ago. Right now, there is a single subway exit, out near the trailer park, not too far from where the studio is, where my Carlos—poor Carlos, please get out of there—and an agent from the Sheriff’s Secret Police are handling a situation wherein that particular entrance has begun to show any form of activity._ ”

Carlos staggered to his feet, as the rumbling beneath his feet intensified, and behind him he could hear the radio crackle, as he ended his call to Cecil.

“ _Carlos—brave and absolutely_ foolish _, listeners, gets up onto his feet despite the tremors the ground is making, as his feet crunch over cracking pavement and he stumbles to catch himself on the agent’s shoulder_.”

“Hey, mind telling me what’s going on?” he yelled over the loud rumbling, and the agent shrugged.

“Beats me,” she replied, “I’m here to make sure you don’t get killed.”

“Swell,” Carlos sighed, turning to face the entrance himself, before staggering forward.

“Hey!” his watcher yelled after him, and behind him the radio crackled even louder.

“ _Oh, listeners! Carlos has started walking towards the entrance, refusing to leave, in the pursuit of the fulfilment of his curiosity—and I am here once again, stuck in my booth, worry gnawing at every fibre of my being for him._ ”

“Whatever you are, get out of there!” he yelled down the subway, and at once, everything fell still, eerily so, and Carlos swayed on his feet at the sudden change in situation, his eyes wide as his watcher ran up to his side and grabbed his shoulder to pull him away from the entrance.

“I don’t know what you did, but you have _got_ to stop tryin’ to kill yourself,” she scolded him, and he offered her a sheepish smile, before the two of them backed away from the entrance.

“ _Oh? Listeners, it seems—it seems the tremors have stopped, all at the command of my Carlos’ voice. He made his way to the entrance of the subway, and yelled down to it, ‘_ Whatever you are, get out of there, _’ and just like that, the earth stopped shaking. He’ll… he’ll be okay._ ”

Hearing Cecil’s relief calmed him down as well, and a little smile crossed his face as he and his watcher stood by the entrance, warily eyeing it.

“What happens now?” she asked him, and he shrugged.

“We wait.”

It wasn’t long before spectres suddenly flooded out of the subway, and into the desert sun, hissing and screeching all the way, and that made Carlos and his watcher’s eyes widen as they watched them fly by the dozen out of the entrance.

“Are those _ghosts_?” his watcher breathed, disbelieving, “Now I’ve seen everythin’. Still don’t believe in them, though.”

Carlos gave her an exasperated look, but turned his attention back to all the spectres that suddenly rushed out of the subway entrance, each one looking different, almost _cartoonish_ , and he almost laughed, had he heard what Cecil was saying over the broadcast.

“ _It seems our troubles are not yet over, Night Vale. As I speak, spectres are charging out of the subway entrance, each strange and unusual in their own way—and oh, they’ve begun possessing people_.”

“Oh, God.” Carlos groaned, and he and his watcher turned around to see a man, screaming, getting absorbed by a ghost, wrenched horribly apart and together again, bones creaking and cracking and muscles tearing, that Carlos couldn’t help the uneasy feeling in his gut as his body threatened to heave his breakfast out in disgust.

“We have to stay away from those spectres!” his watcher warned, pulling him behind her as she shot one—and it screeched, disappearing from their plane of existence.

“You have _got_ to get me one of those.” Carlos commented, but she said nothing, warily looking around for somewhere for them to go. Carlos, meanwhile, looked past her large shoulders to see that the man—if he could call _it_ that, was now dark-skinned, as if it was charred—no, _burnt_ beyond recognition, and his head was elongated, burning at the end, with black flames just as dark as his charred skin was now. “Look at that guy.” He breathed, and his watcher turned to look at him.

“ _Damn_ , son,” she swore, and Carlos couldn’t agree more.

“ _Listeners, it seems contact with these spectres will result in possession by them, turning residents of Night Vale into malevolent creatures, marred beyond recognition and pain, into hideously burnt_ things _that we will never be able to comprehend_.”

“Looks like Cecil’s got the situation down, at least,” Carlos murmured, looking at the subway entrance—and his eyes widened. “H-hey,” he spoke up, tugging at his watcher’s Kevlar vest, and pointing at the entrance. “Please tell me I’m not dreaming.”

She turned her head, and her eyes widened as well, to see a man in a white sweater and a cat-shaped mask standing at the subway entrance, hands clasped behind his back as messy black hair bounced in the wind, against the string that held his mask to his face.

“My, my. Look at where you got us to this time, Batter,” he spoke up, his voice soft, and with a tinge of a French accent, before he turned around gleefully, cocking his head at whomever it was walking up the stairs from the subway to meet him. “I admit, the ride was quite fun, _amigo_ , but a _desert_? Really?”

“My mission chooses where I go.” A deeper voice replied, and a man dressed in a baseball tunic came up next to the masked man, a pure white bat resting on his shoulder, and three glowing rings followed after him, floating easily, like how Erika would behind Old Woman Josie. He stood tall, taller than the man in the sweater, and donned a pitch-black cap that casted a shadow over his face, obscuring it from view. His skin was paper-white, and as immaculate as his uniform’s whiteness.

At the back of his mind, Carlos wondered if he was still asleep, curled up next to Cecil in bed, his arms wrapped around his boyfriend’s waist and Cecil’s hands tangled in his hair.

He pinched himself, earning him a strange look from his watcher, and Carlos sighed. “Nope, awake. I’m actually awake.”

“Clearly,” his watcher rolled her eyes, before making a move to approach the two men that had appeared at the subway entrance.

“H-hey, wait, what if they’re hostile?”

“ _An update on the earthquake at the subway station near the trailer park. It seems that the spectres have now taken over a large part of Old Town Night Vale, and more and more reports have been coming in about citizens being burnt. My Carlos, and that agent from the Sheriff’s Secret Police is still near the station, witnessing now the emergence of two strangers from the subway entrance. What could they entail, Night Vale? Could these two people have brought the spectres here to wreak mindless havoc on our little town? Couldn’t they have done that to Desert Bluffs instead?_ ”

Carlos snorted, despite himself, laughing lightly, and that caught the attention of the two men at the entrance of the subway.

“ _Or, perhaps, are they saviours of our town? Here to purify Night Vale of its impurities, of its invaders trampling our sacred community?_ ”

“ _¡Hola, amigo_!” the masked man greeted brightly, stepping over to where Carlos and his watcher stood, the man in the baseball tunic slowly walking after him. “We’d like to ask a few questions, if we could.”

“We’ll be the ones asking questions here.” Carlos’ watcher spoke up before he could, holding up her gun, and at this the masked man’s shoulder visibly slumped in what looked like disappointment.

“Uh, hey—” Carlos began to say, when the masked man leant back to turn to face the man in the uniform.

“Batter?” he asked, sweetly, and the man scowled at him, raising his head slightly to glower at the masked man, and Carlos’ eyes widened when he saw four red eyes glowering at the man in the sweater underneath the shadow casted by his black cap.

“I’m not your servant, Zacharie.”

Carlos opened his mouth to speak up, but then they were surrounded by possessed citizens, and his eyes widened in mild panic as he watched his watcher get pulled away from his side by the possessed. He made a move forward to help her, his hands balling into fists, ready to fight, when he felt a hand grasp his shoulder.

“That was convenient.” The masked man chuckled, turning abruptly to face the man— _Batter_ , Carlos thought to himself, what kind of a name was that? “Batter, no. We need her away from this man if we want to talk to him.”

The Batter had been readying his bat, ready to charge at the burned citizens attacking his watcher, but, resentful, he lowered his bat to face the two of them.

“Good.” The masked man— _Zacharie_. Now _that_ was a normal name—nodded, before turning to address Carlos again. “Anyway, hi.” He gave Carlos a tiny wave, and Carlos could only nod. “What's your name? Could you tell us where my friend and I are?”

“Carlos. Uh, um." Carlos swallowed, confused as to why he had answered his name to that strange man so _easily_. "You’re in Night Vale. In the, uh, USA. Earth.”

Sure, they didn’t look like aliens, Carlos reasoned, but they didn’t exactly look _human_ either.

“Night Vale.” Zacharie repeated, tapping the chin of his mask in thought. “Oh, well. It’s not Alma, but it’ll do.”

“Zacharie. We need to find the Judge.” The Batter sternly said, “Leave him alone; we have to finish this mission.”

“Oh, _fine_ ,” Zacharie shrugged dramatically, before turning to look at Carlos. “Sorry about the inconvenience, _amigo_. Have a nice day!”

“Wait, who are you two? How did you get here?”

“Subway.” Zacharie simply replied, waving Carlos goodbye with a hand half-hidden by the end of his sweater’s long sleeve, before turning around, light enveloping his hand, before a sword appeared in his hand, aglow with a gentle golden light.

Carlos could only stare as two wings appeared on Zacharie’s back, as he joined the Batter’s side.

“So, where do we start?” he asked cheerfully, as the two—accompanied by the strange glowing rings—walked away.

Carlos stood by himself at the side, more confused than anything, but he jolted when he felt a hand heavily land on his shoulder. He turned his head to see it was his watcher, looking a little worse for wear, but otherwise fine.

“Do I even have to mind-wipe you?” she asked tiredly, and he shook his head.

“Go get some rest. I’ll investigate this on my own.”

“ _Goddamnit_ , there are just some times when I hate the fact you’re a scientist.” She sighed, before turning away to head back to her post—a few feet away from Carlos, just out of eyeshot.

The scientist sighed, his shoulders slumping, as he headed back to the station to talk to Cecil—no doubt he had worried his boyfriend, and after what had happened with the tiny civilization almost killing him, he wasn’t quite willing to hear Cecil breaking down again, his life in danger or no.

* * *

Listeners, another update regarding the two new strangers that have taken residence in our town: we now know their names are the Batter and Zacharie, and they are currently living in a trailer that no one had been occupying since that broadcast about a particular person I will not mention ever again. They are here for two purposes; one is to find a certain entity called the Judge, or, “Pablo”, as Zacharie had called him, when Carlos and I came to interview them in the middle of the street, right across the Arby’s parking lot.

“Oh, he’s very kind, and we owe him something,” he said, gesturing wildly, the expression on his cat mask completely unchanging and ever-smiling as he talked to us. “Pablo knows a thing or two we don’t—we’re hoping we’ll find some answers if we find him.” As he said this, a hand, bleeding red, and completely severed flew in our direction from the general direction of his friend, who, he said, was an expert in spectre eradication.

I tried to get an interview from this Batter, to ask him about his methods and plans of getting rid of these spectres and burnt citizens, but all he told me, in a voice both rumbling and monotone, like smoke, and meat, and metal, and plastic, yet sugary, “This is my mission of purification. My methods are decided by my puppeteer.” At this he looked temporarily confused, checking his arms and tugging at air, before staring at me with a look of very cool and well-concealed confusion and disbelief.

I don’t know what that means, listeners, but I must admit that this Batter person is really, _really_ cool. Exuding an air of indifference and coolness, of lack-of-concern, and casual aloofness—oh, listeners, it was like talking to a movie star! This Batter man is most _certainly_ an interesting man.

_Of course, I love you, Carlos, please don’t pout at me like that._

Well, listeners, we can’t say completely for certain what else these two new strangers to our town will bring us, but only time will tell of things like these and time is not patience’s best friend. Perhaps a few more deaths and a little more blood on our streets will sort things out—and a few hours’ meditation in your blood stone circles will certainly help, Night Vale.

Stay tuned next for a following hour of a dramatic reading of _Panic in Ballville_ in Elmo’s voice.

Good night, Night Vale. Good night.


End file.
